


Binders and Brawls

by Lepord257



Series: Dead Men verse [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Other, Wash on the Tarturus!AU, but its cool, i refuse to check ive already done my proofreading for the day, i think thats the plural of crisis, the mercs STILL havent shown, wash is busy having friendship related crisies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepord257/pseuds/Lepord257
Summary: “I don’t remember you binding during the project,” he says, handing everything over.On a prison ship in the ass-end of nowhere, a dead man makes a new acquaintance.





	Binders and Brawls

**Author's Note:**

> These just keep getting longer, huh? Fast forward 3 months from now: I upload an entire 40k "oneshot" in one go. They've started a bookclub. Al and Co are debating adopting another cat. The mercs still haven't shown up. It's been one week in universe.

Breakfast ends well before Wash finishes his bribe coffee. Even after its gone, he stays in the empty hallway, drumming his fingers against the midnight blue thermos. It must be Alaska’s personal one, he realizes. Not something grabbed at random from the break room. He’ll have to return it as soon as he gets a chance - the sooner the better. But he can’t chase them down just yet, and he can’t stand around in the hallway all day. So he takes a deep breath and heads back to his cell.

When he gets back, Colorado is awake and groaning into his pillow.

“You good?”

Colorado pushes himself onto his elbows and zeros in on the thermos. “Coffee.”

Wash frowns, thinking back to Alaska’s comment about their partner’s ADHD. “I thought you couldn’t have caffeine.”

“I  _ shouldn’t _ have caffeine. There’s a difference.”

Wash raises his eyebrows and goes to put the thermos in his locker. Behind him, Colorado yawns through the question, “While you’re over there, can you grab me the green choker from my locker?”

“Not pink?”

“Shocking, I know.”

Colorado’s locker is a riot of color stuffed full of personal effects that spill onto the floor the moment he opens the door. Wash doesn’t bother wondering how he got everything past security. Even back on the MOI, Colorado could be relied on to produce improbable objects at the drop of a hat, including but not limited to saffron, thousand year old religious texts, and and a solid gold barbie doll. At the time, he’d claimed everything came through 479er. Now, the answer was almost definitely Alaska.

Wash almost shoves the choker in the back of the locker on autopilot while picking everything off the floor. It’s handmade, with wooden beads chosen for color rather than shape. Every single one of them, except for the plain ones on the front that spell THEY/THEM, are the acid green that Michigan wore. What was their nickname - Boston? No, wrong state. Detroit.

He sets the choker aside, along with two others - a bright pink HE/HIM and an Alaska blue SHE/HER - that he finds shoveling shit back in the locker. He’s closing it when Colorado says, “Grab my binder too.”

God. Damn. It. Deep breaths. “Sure thing.”

It takes him a while to find it under multiple cans of shaving cream(?), two cookbooks(??), and a jar of beads(???), but he does find it. It stops at the midriff rather than being a full taktop, like the ones York used to wear. The fabric is iridescent, cycling through pinks and reds and patterned like mermaid scales.

“I don’t remember you binding during the project,” he says, handing everything over.

Colorado takes off their shirt and wow the wall sure is interesting. “With the amount of impromptu sparing and general roughhousing that went on?”  _ Why _ are they still facing him? “I like having a functioning ribcage, Washington. Now help me with the choker; I can never get the clasp.”

Wash also has trouble with the clasp, but that’s more do to with Colorado’s bouncing than anything mechanical. The second he’s finished, Colorado grabs his wrist and pulls him out the door and down the hall towards the yard.

“What are you-”

“I’ve been promised tea.”

“I thought Al was doing guard stuff right now.”

“If I need something, they find a way.” They grin back at him. “It’s their Freelancer superpower.”

Oh God, not this again. “C- Jael, you can’t say that about every trait an agent has.”

“Can. Did. Will do so in the future.”

Colorado is still facing him when they reach the yard, jogging backwards and scanning the raised walkways for Alaska. Wash digs in his heels the best he can, but there’s no competing with their sheer momentum. 

“Jael, your left. LEFT! Turn-”

“Oh hey Jamie, coming through. How’s the ankle?”

“Eight o’clock- J, that’s four- JAEL-”

“Lucy darling, it’s been ages, don’t mind me-”

Dancing out of Lucy’s way puts them on a collision course with the biggest guy in the room. Wash has a split second to take in the facial scars, missing eye, and shark tattoos before Colorado plows straight into them.

“Whoops, sorry buddy, I didn’t see..you...there.”

Sharkface pays no attention to Colorado or their apologies. Instead, he’s glaring past them at Wash.

Colorado narrows their eyes, glancing between the two men. Then they visibly reax, drop Wash’s wrist, and smile at the guy. “Well if nobody’s gonna introduce me-” They stick out their hand for a handshake. “Name’s Jael.”

Sharkface ignores the hand, but does shift focus to the agent. “You’ve got an unfortunate taste in friends, Jael.”

Colorado keeps the smile, but raises their eyebrows. “I take it you’ve got better suggestions. Mr., uh-”   
  
“Call me Sharkface.”

Colorado freezes. “Holy shit.” Sharkface glares. Wash wonders if he’s going to have to tell Alaska their partner was beaten to death with their own skull. “Not like- Oh my- You’re my hero.”

Sharkface glares for half a second longer but lets it go, looking instead to Wash, still planted firmly behind Colorado. “You should step aside,” he says to Colorado.

Their smile fades, but their posture stays open and easy. “No.”

“You seem like a reasonable person, so I’m gonna give you a warning.” As tall as Colorado is, Sharkface is taller. He steps into their space, making good use of those three extra inches. “Stay out of this. Or you’ll be next.”

Their grin is back, sardonic and cutting. “You misunderstand. I’m  _ first _ .”

They say it with enough confidence that for a solid three seconds, Wash doesn’t register the words as nonsense. “You- what?” Colorado just shoots Wash a thumbs up. What the fuck.

“I’m first, then Olson, then Liam, mayber Sophie depending on the day, Evans, Vera-”   
  
“Who are-”

“Just some friends I’ve made these past few days. Some of them owe me a favor or two. Some aren’t your biggest fans. Some just like me. And then there’s the matter of…” They nod behind them, trailing off.

Sharkface pales and takes three quick steps backwards. Wash turns to see Alaska sidling up behind Colorado, thermos in hand. Alaska cocks their head.

“There a problem here?”

“...No,” Sharkface says eventually.

There’s a pause. Wash finds himself shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. Colorado looks as smug as they’ve ever been. Alaska breaks the stalemate, gestures with the thermos. Sharkface takes it as the dismissal it is and slinks away into the crowd.

Colorado throws an arm around Alaska’s shoulders. “I’m so glad that worked; he could have kicked my ass.”

Without equipment there’d be no contest. That was not a fight Colorado could hope to win. So why had they picked it at all? The challenge? The fun of it? Or- last night in the cell.  _ “Easier to keep an eye on you this way.” _ Maybe they’d meant it.

Al’s talking, heedless of Wash’s racing thoughts. “I’ll spread the word around that Terrance was trying to start shit.”

Colorado looks more delighted at that little revelation than they were about the name Sharkface. “Fucking  _ whom _ ?”

“I  _ know _ .” Alaska hands Colorado the thermos. Now that the danger’s past, Wash has the presence of mind to register that it’s pink and sparkly. How have these two managed to evade the UNSC for an entire decade if this is their idea of laying low?

Colorado flips the lid up and inhales. “I could kiss you.”

Alaska smirks. “And blow our cover?”

“You’re right. They could  _ fire _ you.”

Alaska laughs and leans into their partner. He should go. Sharkface won’t try anything else so soon, and the treat of Alaska should be enough to ward off Price for the foreseeable future.  He should- he should grab Alaska’s thermos. Or something. Leave them be.

“Oh, hey, Wash!” Alaska says. “Did Jael tell you about Amy?”

Or he could stay. That works too.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's laptop got ~***~fuuuuucked uuuup~***~
> 
> It was mine
> 
> hmu on tumblr at [ivekilledmonsters](http://ivekilledmonsters.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Also, shoutout to [CelestialRay!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialRay/pseuds/CelestialRay) Detroit is their OC and you can read about them in [Those The Leaderboard Forgot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496138/chapters/38634764#workskin).


End file.
